Prayers of the Fallen
by Angry Blood Sister
Summary: Eversor is an extremely powerful psion who has escaped Esset and is hiding with Schwarz, but Esset won't give up until they have her back. Meanwhile, she starts to form bonds with the men of Schwarz, and what happens when those ties are threatened? RR!
1. Enter the Destroyer

A/N: Hello all! This is my first Weiss Kreuz fanfic. It's not going to be all that good but I was struck with this idea and it wouldn't let me go on leaving it unwritten. So, here it is. There may, ok, most likely are going to be OOC-ness, so please point out anything that's wrong (constructively), and I'll try my best to remedy it. Thank you for your patience and attention. Now on to the story.  
  
~Tabitha  
  
Chapter 1: Enter The Destroyer  
  
She was desperate. It was a long shot that they would help her, but she had to try. She cried out as the pain in her abdomen shot through her like a hot poker, making her double over. If it hadn't been raining already, the ground would be wet for another reason. She was losing blood and fast. She had to get to them.  
  
She focused her talents, her mind searching for them. Ah, there they are, she thought weakly, and continued to trudge her way down the cracked sidewalk, the rain pummelling her sore body. She struggled to keep herself conscious, she was almost there.  
  
She walked up the walk, screaming in her mind for she hadn't the strength to knock on the door.  
  
//Help me! Open the door!//  
  
***  
  
"Ahh!" Schuldig grabbed his head and fell to his knees. The pain was immense. It felt like a million or so people were yelling in his ears.   
  
//Help me! Open the door!//  
  
"Schu! What's wrong?" Nagi ran to his friends side, though apprehensive as to whether or not to touch him. He'd been knocked across a room once during a similar incident.  
  
Schuldig was trembling due to the pain in his head, but managed, through clenched teeth, the utter a response.  
  
"Open the fuckin' front door."  
  
By this time, Crawford had run into the room, with an irrate looking Farfarello close behind.  
  
"What's goin on in here?!" Crawford demanded.   
  
Nagi didn't answer for he was running for the front door in the hopes that it would do something to stop his friends pain. He grabbed onto the knob, twisted, and swung the door open. In front of him, slumped up against the door frame, was a shadowed figure. Just then lightening jolted across the black sky and for an instant, Nagi saw what he thought was a feminine face, though horribly torn with pain. The stranger groaned, clutching her stomach, and fell inside, bringing Nagi down with her.  
  
"What the..." Crawford stalked into the front foyer to see Nagi on the floor with the stranger, now craddled in his arms. Nagi looked up at his leader.  
  
"She's hurt."  
  
***  
  
Darkness, a quickly receeding darkness. No, don't let me wake. I don't wish to wake up ever again. Against her wishes, her eyes began to flutter, the light pourring unbidden into her sore eyes. She moaned, trying to move. Suddenly, she was aware of something cold an very sharp pressed against her throat. Her eyes flew open.  
  
There, sitting right beside her was a young man, older than herself though. He had short white hair and an patch over one eye. He smiled at her, and with that his thoughts came rushing at her. He wanted to kill her. She panicked. Sommuning all the power her tired and worn body could muster, she used her telekinesis to pick her attacker up about five feet off of the ground and threw him as hard as she could into the closest wall. She stared at him wide-eyed as after the loud crack of him crashing almost through the wall, he stood up and smiled menacingly at her, and still holding his knife.  
  
Just then, another man, with wild red hair, ran in the room. After quickly looking at the situation, he yelled over his shoulder.   
  
"Hey! She's awake!"  
  
She tried to stand up, these men, especailly the one with the knife, were scaring her. She only manage to stand for a brief three seconds before she fell back down onto the couch she had been laid on earlier.   
  
"Hey, don't freak out, alright. Farf's just a little..." he circled his finger near the side of his head, a gesture that the said knife weelding pirate was crazy. The newest man smirked at her.  
  
Soon enough, two more men ran into the room. One, a tall, business-like male with black hair and glasses, and the second a young boy, most likely younger than herself. They both started to walk closer. Again, she panicked. She errected an energy shield around herself, or at least tried, she was drained. After the fourth failed attempt, she made the feeble threat of "Stay away from or else." This seemed to taken as an invitation by the man called Farf.  
  
"Farf! No. Stay back." the business man commanded. Farf stopped, looking disappointed.  
  
While she was staring, nearly horrified at Farf, who had pointed his knife at her then proceeded to lick its blade, she didn't notice that the young boy had sat down beside her. Once she noticed his weight on the couch, she looked at him, trying to throw him into a wall as well, but failed. She was too tired, and, he too was telekinetic. He was staying put.  
  
"It's ok." he cooed. "You're safe now."  
  
She wanted to believe his soothing words, but then one quick glance to Farf made her doubt them.  
  
"Don't worry 'bout Farf." said the redhead. "We'll keep him under control."  
  
And against her better judgement and training, she believed him. Then her attentions returned to the brown haired young man beside her.  
  
"What's your name?" he asked casually. His voice was calming her every nerve. It was relieving.  
  
"Eversor." she chocked out. Her throat was immensely sore.  
  
"That's such a lovely name." he said, smiling. "What does it mean? If you don't mind me asking."  
  
She looked down at her hands, then back into his large green-blue eyes. Entrancing really.  
  
"It's Latin. It mean 'Destroyer'."  
  
The boy's face in front of her seemed to fall, almost in sadness. She looked at the tohers present. The man in the suit looked almost angry, the redhead seemed pensive, then Farf; she looked at him, pondering his thoughts. All he did was give a small grunt that she interpereted as an amused laugh.  
  
A/N: Just one small note here. PLEASE REVIEW! I live off of them, so don't let me starve, OK. Thanks! =D 


	2. Past and Present

Chapter 2: Past and Present  
  
"So who are?"  
  
She continued to shovel chicken-fried rice into her mouth greedily while choosing to ignore the suited man she had learned was the leader of this 'group', Brad Crawford. She then swollowed and looked at him blankly, which seemed to only anger him.  
  
"Damnit it! Answer me!" he yelled, slamming his fist down on the kitchen table.  
  
"Hey,hey! Calm down Brad." the one called Shuldig said, smirking at her. "Let her eat. I bet she's hungry after -" he stopped, looking a tad uneasy.  
  
Eversor's mind was worn out, so she couldn't read his mind without overloading and then blacking out. So he decided to use the rudimentary method.  
  
"What? After what?"  
  
All assembled adopted Shuldig's look of unease. All except the isane murderer aptly name Farfarello. He was smiling again. Then surprisingly, for the first time since she had awaken, he spoke.  
  
"There was blood. Lots of blood."  
  
At the mere mention, she remembered what she had done. The transmitter. Esset as tagged her with a some homing-transmitter device so they could find her. Well, she had fixed that. She remembered searching for it, searching inwardly throughout her body trying to find it. Then she did, it was in her abdomen, near her stomach. So she had...  
  
"You pulled it out."  
  
Eversor looked up at Schuldig in surprise. A yes, he was a strong telepath, he could hear her thoughts. She nodded. Then Shuldig procceeded to tell the others.  
  
"...And she pulled it out herself. With her own hand she tore open her stomach, reached in, and pulled the transmitter out." He looked at her, near shock washing briefly over his face. Another grunt-like laugh was heard from Farfarello's direction.   
  
"Farf, you're sick." Schuldig stated, turning to the scarred young man, who was playing with his knife still.  
  
Eversor could feel the man's thoughts, they were so free, and she was too weak to block them out. He liked her now only on the basis that she had purposely inflicted pain on herself. The technicalities were nothing to him, just the resultant pain mattered, and sickeningly enough, he approved. She cringed slightly.  
  
"What was amazing-" came the soft voice of Nagi, the young boy. "-was that your body healed itself, and inhumanly fast too." Then his face changed again, only to one of curiosity. He reiterated Brad Crawford's previous question. "Who are you?"  
  
Eversor sighed heavily, remembering the events of her past, but being careful to shield her mind. Schuldig smirked, realizing she'd done this to keep him out. Then she began.  
  
"I am an Esset experiment. My codename is Apocalypse. I am what they called a Talent. I was created to be the ultimate weapon." she paused, looking, in turn, at each of the faces surrounding the table. She even chanced a quick glance at Farfarello in the corner, who seemed preoccupied with his blade.  
  
"What's a Talent?" Nagi asked softly.  
  
"The Esset scientists started to call anyone with psychic powers, Talents; I think they read too many sci-fi novels, personally-" Schuldig snickered. "- and I'm the highest ranking Talent."  
  
"And why is that?" Brad Crawford asked gruffly, glaring at her.  
  
"Because I can do it all - read minds, control people, telekinesis, pyrokinesis, teleportation - the works." she responded softly, almost sad, like she wished it were all a big lie. She didn't happen to mention though that she was also superhumanly fast, strong and intelligent, and could heal rapidly. Hey, they didn't ask. Yet, anyways.  
  
"If you were sent here to destroy us, then why are you telling us this?" Crawford asked. Rude, irrational man, Eversor thought.  
  
"Why would she show up on our doorstep bleeding half to death if she were here to destroy us?" Nagi retorted. This was the first time she had heard any sort of anger in the boys voice.   
  
You haven't been here for a day even, and you're starting to relate to this boy? She berrated herself.  
  
"Misdirection. Playing on our emotions." he argued. "Not that we should have any." he muttered under his breathe, but Eversor heard him.  
  
"Are you cracked? She maimed herself to keep Esset from finding her. Now justify that in her plan to kill us." Schuldig offered calmly, but with a smirk. Did that ever go away or is it permenant?  
  
She watched them argue about either side of whether or not she was sent to kill them. Crawford seemed adamant that she was, Schuldig and Nagi that she wasn't, and Farfarello seemingly passive in the corner, admiring his weapon and completely ignoring the bout. From what she had read and heard of these men, this was not what she has expected. They seemed nothing like their files. Well, except Crawford, he really was an asshole. At least that was her assessment for the moment. Maybe he'll prove otherwise. She laughed in her head.  
  
"Fine!" Crawford yelled out, silencing everyone immediately. This outburst even coused Farfarello to pause his admiration of his knife.   
  
"She lives for now!" he yelled again, probably to remind all that he was in command. "You two will watch her since you're so convinced she's not a spy come to dispose of us. But if she steps out of line, you're both dead anyways. Understood?" Both of his opponents nodded in agreement. "Good." Then Crawford stalked out of the kitchen.  
  
"Well, now that that's settled." Schuldig sat himself down across of Eversor, smirking still. There was a moment of silence between all in the room, aside from the small noises Farfarello's movements made.  
  
"I can't thank you enough, Nagi, Schuldig--"  
  
"Please, call me Schu."   
  
Eversor nodded.  
  
"You were the first people I thought of, I don't know why, maybe because I had been reading your files, and you've all been at odds with Esset a couple times. I came here in the hope that you would hide me until they lost interest." she looked down on the table.  
  
"Eve, look, this is a pretty awkward situation." Schu said.  
  
"Yes," Nagi chimed in. "Though we may have deffended you, we don't know for sure if you aren't really here to kill us. We're hoping that you're not." his eyes seemed to be hoping that the latter was true. Then logic returned to her.  
  
"Why did you guys save me?" Schu gave a small laugh, then answered.  
  
"Just because Weiss thinks we're heartless bastards doesn't mean we are." then he added with a wider than usual grin. "Well, Brad may be. And Farf, well, Farf's just a nutcase, ain't that right Farf." he turned in his seat to look at his fellow colleague, who had started to occupy himself with carving things into the kitchen wall.  
  
"Farf! Stop that! Brad's going to freak. Stop it!" by now he had rushed over to the younger man and grabbed his knife from him. Farfarello looked about ready to tackle Schu to take his weapon back, when Schu asked.  
  
"Why must you do things like this?"  
  
And with a smile, Farfarello replied.  
  
"It's vandalism. Vandalism is against the law and therefore is against God."  
  
Oh, this is going to be fun, Eve thought sarcastically to herself. 


	3. Early Mornings

Chapter 3: Early Mornings  
  
Again the darkness. Maybe this time I can stay forever. Yes, away from all the words and pain and...my curse. Oh God, yes. If you were ever to do anything right it would be to lift this curse from me. Please!   
  
Wait...  
  
Who's there!...  
  
No! Stay away. Please. STAY AWAY!!!!!!  
  
Eve bolted upright, breathing heavily. She sat there for a few moments, trying to get her barings, letting her eyes conform to the darkness. She was in a room, very plain; just the bed she was laying in and a seemingly unused dresser on the far wall. The only light came from a small window, barred of course. She didn't blame them really, for being a little cautious.   
  
She stood up, stretching a bit, her body still sore, especially her stomach. Oh well, that will go away soon enough. What was important was her mind was nearly up to par again. She could break out of there right that moment if she had half a mind to, but what was the point? She' d only be on the run again. No, this would do for now.  
  
She grew suddenly aware of her throat being sore.   
  
I need a glass of water.  
  
Eve walked over to the door, gently grabbing the knob and...it wouldn't move. Locked. Crawford really does think I'm going to kill him. She laughed softly to herself. Ya, but like this is going to stop me.  
  
She closed her eyes and envisioned the lock mechanism. Ah, there we go. She heard a soft click and went for the door knob again; it turned, but the door still wouldn't open.  
  
"What the...damnit, more locks." she whispered.  
  
She proceeded to unlock ever bolt, padlock and combination on the otherside of the door, making a note to be quiet so as to not disturb the others in the house. She slowly opened the door; it was heavy. Is that steel inside? Interesting.  
  
She then proceeded to carfully make her way down the dank hall, pausing only briefly to stare at a particularly solemn looking door. It wasn't that it was damaged in any way, quite the contrary, it looked absolutely flawless. What was strange about it was that it seemed to emminate a sort of feeling, like the inanimate wood - assuming that's really what it all was - felt just as the occupants of the building did. It felt sad, lonely and missunderstood, but most of all, angry and distrustful.  
  
Eve quickly put this out of her mind. She needed to find the kitchen, get a glass of water and back up to her little jail cell before anyone knew she had gotten out. She walked in the dark; not a problem really, she could see better in the dark anyway. Just as she stepped over the threshold, she felt a knot form in her stomach. She stiffened momentarily. Damn, I need to get some water fast, that will make this damn condition subside for a while, I hope.  
  
She made quick business of finding a tall glass and moving to the fridge to look for ice water. Luckily there was an entire pitcher. She grabbed it hastily and filled her glass. She closed the door and was about to take a sip when a tired and very irritated voice shattered the silence.  
  
"What are you doing out of your room?"  
  
It was Schuldig, his flaming hair, which had been held back by a bandanna before, was now falling wildly around his face. She could tell by both his expression and the tone of his voice that he wasn't pleased in the least that she was wandering around the house in the middle of the night.  
  
"You didn't really think that all those locks would hold me, did you?" she asked mockingly as she began to gulp down her water. Schuldig relaxed slightly, almost as if defeated. He shook his head.  
  
"No, I didn't, but Crawford inssisted. He said it would make him sleep easier knowing you were locked away."  
  
Eve raised a sarcastic eyebrow as she replied.   
  
"Is that how he justifies locking Farfarello up?" Again, Schuldig's body seemed to fall slightly.  
  
"I don't like it either, Eversor, but sometimes he gets a little out of hand. We can't be awake around the clock to make sure we're not killed by an insane teammate." he sighed heavily. He really hated having to lock his friend up.  
  
"I'm sure that if you all gave him more respect, he wouldn't be so irrate towards you all."  
  
"You don't live here, you don't know him, how would you know." he snapped back, both from drowsiness and being irritated by her judgements. Eve decided to change the subject.  
  
"How did you know I was out?"  
  
Schuldig rubbed his eyes vigorously, then shook his head just as hard before answering.  
  
"You're pressence alone is enough to wake me, though surprisingly enough, when you walked by my door, I couldn't hear your thoughts." he paused a moment, collectin his thoughts. "Why is that?" Eve smiled.  
  
"I can shield my mind - a very useful trick - meaning that my mind is private, no one can get in and nothing can get out." The redhead seemed almost in awe, looking nearly wistful at the mere prospect of his mind being his own and no one else's thoughts invading it.  
  
"It's hard isn't it, trying to be an individual when so many people are flowing through your mind." She stated softly as she reopened the refrigerator and poured herself another glass of water. He only nodded.  
  
"It was like that for me in the beginning, before I learned to shield myself."  
  
"Do you think..." he paused, lokoing almost shy, or was it apprehensive? "...you think you could teach me? To shield my mind from others' thoughts?"  
  
"Of course." Eve responded, giving a friendly smile for emphasis. "It's the least I could do for you all saving me." She chugged down the second glass of water; her throat was no longer sore, but the thirst was still there. She went for another glass full.  
  
"My god, girl! Where is all that water going?" he asked playfully, trying to cheer himself up. It was her time to be shy and apprehensive. She wasn't very keen on sharing her secret.  
  
"It's nothing really, I-uh- am just really thirsty." She gave a small smirk, trying to play it all off. She felt a nudge at her temples. She chuckled.  
  
"It's not polite to try and enter someone's mind without their permission." Schulidig smirked, very amused.  
  
"You're the first person who has been able to ressist me." He laughed quietly too, realizing the slight perversness of the statement. Then again when Eve went for a fourth glass of water. Her walked into the kitchen. "Damnit, it's almost five now. There's now way I'm going to be able to go to bed. Brad'll be up in about half an hour. Wouldn you like some coffee to chase that water?" he asked her. She nodded, finishing off the contents of the glass then placing it in the sink. Schuldig began to shuffle around the small kitchen, readying the coffe maker.  
  
"Brad'll be pissed to see you're out..." he said softly as he puttered with the infernal machine. "But maybe me being up before nine will eclipse that fact." he smirked and went back to argueing with the coffe maker. 


	4. First Encounters

Chapter 4: First Encounter  
  
Eve stayed with Schuldig in the kitchen, sitting at the table, talking quietly amongst themselves until Brad walked in. Apparently, according to Schu, Brad was up late, seeing as it was five to seven in the morning when the Schwarz leader stumbled into the kitchen wearing nothing but housecoat and mumbling angrily about sleeping in.  
  
He nearly fell over when he looked up to see Eve sitting at the kitchen table. He began screaming almost incoherently. Something like, 'Did you let her out? - she's dangerous - what's she doing out? - why is she down here?' and on and on. Eve only smiled, trying to smooth things over by being calm, but Schuldig just about fell out of his chair he was laughing so hard.  
  
Apparently, the noise the two teammates had been making, woke up the younger member, Nagie Noae, who hurridly ran into the kitchen, and Brad. He quickly appologized, but stopped mid sentence when he saw Schuldig recovering from his fit of laughter, though the vein in the middle of Crawford's head made him a bit nervous. He didn't dare be the one to break the tension lest the leader's wrath be turned to him.  
  
"Good morning Nagi." Eve smiled at her small savior. Then she turned to Brad. "Mr. Crawford, would you like some coffee to calm you down before you start to yell again?" This pried a few more giggles from Schu, making Eve smile. Brad Crawford, taken aback slightly by the formal title, nodded and muttered,  
  
"Black."  
  
Eve, not lifting a finger, began to pour the coffee into a large navy blue mug using her telekinesis. After she was finished pourring it, she proceeded to float it expertly towards Crawford's nervous hands. Once she knew he had a firm hold on it, she let her mental hold of it go. All was quiet for the moment. Nagi crossed his arms in front of his narrow chest and gave a slight smile.  
  
Crawford didn't even chance another look at Eve until he sat down at the head of the table. After he took a few quick sips of his black brew, he looked a bit more calm, though no less alert.  
  
"How did you get out?" he questioned softly, trying intently to wake himself up and regain his normal calm composur. He took a drought from his steaming mug.  
  
"I unlocked everything. It was pretty naive of you to think all that simple locks would hold me." Eve responded calmly, not trying to be cocky. Crawford nodded. He was mulling over these facts in his head. The fact that she hadnt tried to kill him while she was out eased his mind greatly, but a trained assasin is always warry. He didn't completely trust her, nor should he.  
  
By this time Nagi had walked over to the assembled group, leaning up against the closest wall, arms still crossed, seemingly content just to obsserve for the time being.   
  
The sun was now pouring in through the kitchen windows, splashing everyone in reach with a healthy orange glow, including Eversor. She rubbed at her eyes; the irritation getting to her once again. Damn this curse. Damnit, damnit, DAMNIT! And what was worse was she could feel the thrist rising again. Damnit! I'm going to have to find something soon to quench this or I'll be exposed. She squirmed unconsciously in her seat. Schuldig took notice of this.  
  
"Something wrong?" he asked. Eve looked up at him, the near surprise fading when she realized what he was referring to. She shook her head.  
  
"It's nothing, really." she could feel him trying to pry into her mind. She playfully nudged him aside mentally, smiling outwardly. He smirked at her in return, though curiousity and a hint of suspicion danced in his playful green eyes.   
  
She would have to keep her guard up around him.  
  
***  
  
"Things have been pretty slow, y'know, since Taketori died. So we've been basically sitting idol, save for a few in-and-out jobs Crawford has scrounged up. I have to admit, it's oddly refreshing not having to worry about work."  
  
She was sitting with Schuldig in his room. It was strange how the seemingly dark-humored telepath opened up to her. Maybe it was because he could relate to her more than his teammates. And he sure liked to talk; Eve assumed that it was for the pure pleasure of hearing his own voice. She smirked, making sure to keep it to herself though.   
  
"So, tell me more about yourself." he asked, breeching onto a new subject; one not relating to himself for once.  
  
She was about to answer when something caught her attention. It was a scent. She inhaled deeply through her nose, the delicious scent thrilling her scenses. It was familiar, and very desirable.  
  
"What?" Schu asked, leaning forward slightly, confused.  
  
"Don't you smell that?" she nearly whispered, so captivated by the smell. She knew what it was, even though her mind would rather deny it, but her body was screaming for it. "Can't you smell it? It's like a cloud in this room, it's so heavy." she smiled slightly, trapped by the smell, the enticement she always succumbed to due to her curse.   
  
Eve stood up from her place on the floor, the thirst flaring throughout her body, signalling that she needed to feed it. Her mind, which was screaming for her to stop, was drowned by the explicit need for the source of this scent. She started walking, following it, the thirst mounting as the smell grew stronger. Schuldig followed her, speaking to her, but she could not hear him, she could hear nothing until...  
  
... a heartbeat, a deliciously calm heartbeat, and...  
  
... a voice, in her head. Calm, with a slight self-righteous athority to it...  
  
'The pain that should be mine in now Yours. Hurt. Bleed. Know that I despise you with every swipe of this blade, every crimson tear shed by this unholy temple that you hold so dear'...  
  
"Eversor!" Schuldig said sharply to her, trying desperately to get her attention. She could feel him try to pry into her mind and be shocked by her shield, then him calling for the others. She had to find the source...she had to quench the Thirst.  
  
She nearly stumbled into a room - the bathroom - seemingly drunk on just the scent; the lust the Thirst created in her overwhelming. She looked around with hooded eyes. There, sitting on the window ledge, one foot propped up on the closed toilet seat, was Farfarello. A bloody Farfarello. The voice stopped, but the scent remained.   
  
Farfarello was holding a bloodied knife in one hand, the opposite arm held out, bleeding profusely, soaking every material it touched, including the Irishman's clothes. Eve took a step towards him, her feet shakey and her legs unstable, the scent of his blood taking her body over.  
  
Then her mind, her conscience, was reawakened by Schuldig pushing past her and yelling disapprovingly at the man sitting in the window.  
  
"Farfarello! What do you think you're doing? You're getting blood everywhere."  
  
The Irishman didn't respond to the redhead's barrage, instead, his single amber eye stared past his teammate straight towards Eve, a questioning look enveloping it. Eve stumbled back, her mind finally ceasing control once more, she turned to escape from the room, from the smell, when she ran into a body, knocking both to the ground.  
  
She looked up to see Nagi sprawled out underneath her. He looked at her, concern in his eyes, though his face was slightly irritated. The concern flared even more in his blue eyes when he saw the fear and revulsion Eve knew he saw in her own eyes. She roughly stood up, Nagi doing to same. She wanted to saw something, at least an 'I'm sorry', but all she could do was gape and nod before she ran down the hall. But she knew no matter how far she went, she'd still feel the Thirst. And the only way to get rid of it was to succumb. 


	5. Feeding The Beast

Chapter 5: Feeding the Beast  
  
Such a strange creature. The smell was gone, it had only lingered an instant, and in self-preservation no less. The smell that signalled to him who was free game and who was worthy for further study. Fear. Yes, it was the smell of fear that drove him o his worst of crimes against God. Sins committed for the love of others' pain and to see the fear in their eyes, the fear pulling their faces in all directions, the fear that made them scream and finally realize, even if too late, that they have been forsaken.  
  
But not her. She had been fearful only a brief moment in time. Surprised, again, self-preservation. She was no longer afraid of him. No, she was afraid of something else. Something within herself, he assumed. Yes, she was the cause of her own fear. Yes, definately a strange creature.  
  
He sat in his 'good' room. It was the room with the bed. There was nothing else though, no dresser, no closet - all his clothes being kept in the coset in the hall - nothing he could hurt himself with. The walls were padded as well. They were taking no chances. Nothing to hurt himself with, or so they thought. He always had a blade of some kind hidden in the wall, someplace they least expected one to be.   
  
He was amused slightly that he was in this room and not his other room, the one that he was strung up in from time to time. He had been earlier, serving punishment for his little crussade against the Liar earlier that day. But Schuldig had come in for him after an hour or so, saying the Crawford had left. He knew that the redheaded telepath cared for him, and he felt a certain affection for the man as well, if affection is what you could call it. Maybe it was something more akin to respect. The man was fearless, unscrupulous in battle and devilishly mischievious. He was also a good companion, when wasn't ranting about meaningless rubbish.   
  
But the bathroom. It was in the bathroom that he had seen that fear again. The loud German had been going off about the 'mess' he had made, and she was staring at him, at his bloodied arm and clothes. There had been an immense fear there, a near self-loathing. Curious. But before that, there had been a longing. He had smelt it before he even saw her. An overwhelming desire - need - that had warned him to something's presence near. Very curious.  
  
He looked down at the bandages that the young one, Nagi, had expertly wrapped around his fresh wounds. He had been annoyed. It was a nuisance for him to keep having to dress the Irishman's self-inflicted wounds. He didn't much like the young boy, he was an annoyance as well, always judgeing him and taking away his knives. He was no fun.  
  
The wounds. It was something having to do with his blood that had drawn the new presence; the girl that had just shown up. The girl who had no fear of him. She was a puzzle indeed; the answer to which lay somewhere inside. Maybe disembowlment was in order. He smiled wildly, excited by the idea of ripping into someone.   
  
A bird cried outside, as if someone were strangling it. He walked over to his small, double-barred window and looked out into the street. There was someone outside.  
  
***  
  
She had temporarily escaped from the house of Schwarz. She needed to feed. This morning's little incident had been too much for her. She hadn't been able to be take even one step out of her room, the smell of the blood was too strong, and the Thirst would only drive her to attacking one the members of the house, and she couldn't risk that. So this was what she had resorted to; hunting stray animals, and presently, the mourning-dove that was pirched on a branch a few feet from her own.  
  
She sat quietly, waiting for its little heart to calm with sleep, then she grabbed for it, quick as lightening, gripping its head and tearring it clear off. This was what she needed to calm the beast inside, the curse she was damned to see through to the end.   
  
She hungrily sucked on the exposed bleeding arteries of the birds neck. Her inner demon laughing at her once again succumbing to its desires. But for the moment she didn't care. Let the disgust come later, her blood taunted, let the self-loathing rip at your conscience later, for now, be what it is in your nature to be - Sanguinarius.  
  
Once she felt her gluttenous Thirst subside, she dropped the birds body, its weight thudding as it hit the grass below. Her face was covered with blood, her hands as well. This was her secret, this was her curse. Oh how she hated herself right then.  
  
She looked up to the house - the house that she should be in right then - and saw what she had been dreading. There was someone in the window. It was the barred window, the window of...  
  
There staring at her, an ever so slight smile pulling at one corner of his lips, amber eye full of amusement and morbid underanding, was Farfarello. She was exposed. 


	6. I Am

Chapter 6: I Am...  
  
"Men with secrets tend to be drawn to each other, not because they want to share what they know but because they need the company of the like-minded, the fellow afflicted"  
  
- Don Delillo (b. 1926), U.S. author. Walter Everett, Jr., in ""17 April,"" pt. 1, Libra (1988).  
  
--------------------------------  
  
"I am Eversor, The Destroyer. Codename: Apocalypse."  
  
"What are your psychic abilities?" she was asked.  
  
Eversor sat still, her back straight her face blank. She was being interrogated. Brad Crawford her Inquisitor. She was answering every question perfectly, leaving nothing, until now. There was no way that she would tell them about her curse, she had yet to speak with Farfarello, to make him keep his silence. If he told, he would pay dearly. But back to the present, answer the question.  
  
"Telekinesis, pyrokinesis, teleportation, telepathy, and possession."  
  
She was aware of the changes in posture and attitudes of all present. Three of the men tensed at these words with varying levels of nervousness and detached appreciation. The only who didn't react as such was Farfarello. The only evidence that he had heard her and understood was his one cocked eyebrow. Crawford continued with his questions.  
  
"And your physical abilites?"  
  
"I have excellerated speed, agility, strength, healing and understanding."  
  
"Are all of these abilities a result of the experimentation performed on you?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Which are not?"  
  
"I was strong and fast before they got a hold of me."  
  
"Who were you before Esset found you?"  
  
"I was Eversor, homeless and orphaned."  
  
Slight feelings of compassion rose from the boy Nagi, his cold exterior sliding only briefly. Had to keep up apperiances at work.  
  
"What happened to your family?"  
  
"Killed in a fire."  
  
"Why did Esset take you in?"  
  
"Because I had no one to come looking for me I would assume." she responded, looking up at her interrogator for the first time since the questions had begun. Then after a small space of silence, she asked, "Is that all?"  
  
Crawford stood before her small chair, looking down at her, expressionless, supposedly intimidating, not that he frightened her in the least. Then he spoke again.  
  
"What was your training, other than to use your Talents?" Without batting an eye, Eve answered.  
  
"I was trained for battle and to carry out assasinations. I was trained in the martial arts and military fighting styles. I know how to handle any weapon given to me. I was also tought computer hacking and stealth from the best in the world. I am also fluent in ten different languages."  
  
"What languages?" she heard Schuldig inquire from his spot against the wall of the small room.  
  
"English, Japanese, Spanish, Italian, Dutch, Norwegian, Portugeuse, Latin, French," she paused, turning to face the redhead and gave a self-satified smile. "and German." Schuldig smirked at the mention of his native tongue.  
  
//Impressive.// he shot to her with his mental voice. Eyes dancing playfully.  
  
"How old were you when Esset found you?" Nagi interrupted, his face still covered by his mask of professionalism, but his eyes betrayed that fleeting concern again.  
  
"I was nearly ten years old."  
  
Again, a silence feel over the room, seemingly prohibiting anyone from speaking. Then Crawford turned to go, saying calmly over his shoulder,  
  
"That's all for now." And left the small interrogation room. Nagi and Schuldig were not too long in following, after asking a few more questions of their own, all having a more personal and compassionate basis. Soon she was only left with Farfarello. She stared at him, daring him to say something, anything, especially something having to do with the night prior. He only stared back, and questioning look holding his one-eyed gaze to her. For some reason his silence unsettled her into speaking first. And as asinine as it seemed, it was a threat.  
  
"You tell any of the others what you saw last night and I will find a way for you to feel pain." How stupid of her. She had read his file; he couldn't feel pain. But maybe there was something logged away in his brain that would cause him a deeper pain than any physical affliction could ever manage. Why hurt the body when the mind can be totured much more easily.  
  
"What is it that you fear?" he asked quietly, acting as if he hadn't heard her threat.  
  
Eve was taken aback by this question. What was he getting at? She decided on probing his mind to find the answer. Farfarello's lips twitched slightly - an attempt at another smile, maybe? - he knew that she was in his head.   
  
In the Irishman's mind, she saw the other night, how he had been sitting in his room, thinking dily about her, and his wounds. His complex mind trying to figure out how the two were connected. Very percpetive, madman, she thought. He had seen that it was the blood that had stirred her. Both the Beast and her innate fear of it and what it could do.  
  
She backed off, retreating from the Irishman's thoughts. Then the answer to his question fell from her lips.  
  
"I'm afraid of my curse."  
  
This sparked some interest in the man's one golden eye, though both his face and his body never changed.  
  
"We all have our secrets, Lady Death, and our curses. And they are ours alone to tell." And with that, the alleged madman left, leaving Eve to sit in awe. How could such an elequent statement come from someone said to be murderous and criminally insane. And the name; Lady Death. How unfortunately true he was. 


	7. The Lady

Chapter 7:  
  
She stood in the bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror. The mirror in question was full-length and on the back of the closet door. She had been standing there, staring at her reflection for nearly an hour and she didn't really know why.  
  
When she looked at herself, she saw a girl of average height, thin but not starved looking; nearly white creamy skin and raven black hair that fell in loose natural curls down her back. Average one could say. That's what made her so angry. She wasn't average. Not in the slightest sense of the word. No, inside she was...she was nothing short of freakish. Even before Esset had gotten their filthy hands on her, she hadn't been normal. No, she'd always been different, and even before the change as well. Being orphaned at a young age can have that sort of an affect on a child. She'd been diagnosed 'mentally unstable', they said. Some even going so far as to say she was borderline bipolar, because her mood swings could become very extreme at times.  
  
Well you try and have a normal life after watching your parents burn to death, she thought.  
  
But it had all gone from bad to worse. Esset must have sensed the bad blood in her when they picked her off the streets, having run away from the orphanage. Not only was she an orphan with no one to ask questions if she disappeared, but she was a freak as well. It was not long after she turned sixteen that the changes started. The Esset scientists, her caretakers and teachers all started to note changes in her behavior, thinking that maybe her mental inbalance was becoming a problem, but then the symptoms started to show themselves. She couldn't take sunlight without dark glasses on, otherwise the whites of her eyes would turn an unnatural red, like a rash, and she was either hungry or thirsty all the time, drinking numerous amounts of water, milk, whatever she could get her hands on. And then her senses picked up. At first it went unnoticed because she had been trained to use her senses to the best of their abilities, but then it seemed almost supernatural. She could hear things things that the human ear was never meant to hear without machanical aid. She could hear people's heartbeats, hear their blood move in their veins. And the smells! She could smell things from great distances and especailly things that normal people couldn't; like death, age, disease...and blood.   
  
At first the scientists thought that she had porphyria; a rare genetic diorder that was hereditary. It caused accute sensitivity to sunlight, but all the other symptoms Eve had displayed argued the contrary. Eventually they came up with the obsurd, yet undiniably real answer. Its name was sanguinaria; cult title being 'vampirism'. Rediculous really, it had to have been a joke, but after testing their suspicions, those damned Esset fools had proven that it was undoubtedly true.   
  
So, I'm a vampire. Great. Not that my life didn't already suck.  
  
She had to admit though, it did explain her fascination with blood, maybe even her sadistic and narscasistic tendencies. But it had from the very beginning been a burden. And she could feel it rising again. The Beast, as she liked to call it. The side of her that all of her negative emotions came though to the world. She was rising, this beast-woman, this Lady of Death. Yes, she very much beginning to like the title Farfarello had given her. Lady Death. An angel on black wings come to take all from this nightmare.  
  
Eve smiled to herself as the words formed in her head. Yes, Lady Death I am.  
  
***  
  
"Did anyone else notice that there are dead animals all over the neighborhood?" Schuldig questioned with slight disgust at remembered the mangled bodies. "I mean, heads, hearts, throats all ripped out and the bodies seemingly deflated, like they were drained." he muttered to himself. Once again shuttereing slightly at the thought of the slaughtered creatures.  
  
Crawford, who had been sittling casually in an arm chair reading the daily newspaper, lifting an eyebrow over the paper's edge. "Really." he said half-heartedly.  
  
"Ya, it's quite disgusting." Schuldig responded.  
  
"Who would do such a thing? And to animals?" Nagi asked, disgusted at the act itself, for he himself had not seen the corpses.  
  
"Don't know. Probably some occultist sicko." The fiery German spat, scowling at the unbidden images burned in his mind.  
  
***  
  
A vampire. Very strange indeed. To think that such a thing existed in this reality. This girl would prove to be quite interesting to have around indeed. She's really quite the specimen too, being gifted with so many abiltites, if a gift was really what you could call them.   
  
He was suddenly glad that he didn't himself possess psychic powers, though he was able to talk through his mind to the others, but only curtesy of the German's telepathy. He'd seen what stress it could put someone through. Crawford seemed a little worn out after every vision he beheld, and he'd been told by Schuldig many a time that telepathy wasn't all roses and honey all of the time. No, he was grateful he asn't given that curse, he was having a time enough dealing with his own.  
  
This girl, she had admitted her fear to him, the fear she had of herself, of her thirst. How curious that one would be afraid of themself.  
  
He picked at the bandages on his left forearm as he walked drudgingly slow towards his room at the end of the hall. He let his eyes roam over the puckered flesh, trying to heal itself, the scabs red and cracked. He passed his fingers almost lovingly over the marks. His small triumphs against the Father; the ultimate vandalism against God. He smiled to himself. Yes, it had been worth it.   
  
Upon approaching his door, Farfarello noticed a piece of paper had been taped to his door. Strange. Nothing like this has ever happened before. He ripped it off of the wood and held it to his one good eye to inspect it. There was a small message on it.  
  
'Farfarello means 'evil ghost'. Think about that. ~ Lady Death'  
  
A growl rose up in his throat. How confident she was, and fearless, to leave something like this to provoke him. But for some reason, he didn't feel angry or provoked in any way. Only further intrigued.  
  
------------------------------  
  
A/U: I'm making Farf a little more intellectual than most people do. The greater fan-base make him out to be insane, and that's the end all and be all. But they forget, there is always a method to one's madness. Take it from someone who's clinically insane. hehe =D. I find him to be quite intelligent and largely misunderstood, as all us psychos are. lol. Anyway...please review! I love to hear that I'm doing something moderately right. hehe.  
  
~Tab 


	8. Observation of Feeling

Chapter 8:   
  
She had been staying with them for what was nearing two weeks now, and hadn't gone outside. Not as far as any of them knew. Farfarello being the only to see her outside that one night and never again since. She must be getting anxious.  
  
She had been tested over the days she had spent with them. He had watched; if not in the open, from the shadows. She was quite the creature, made to be an instruement of death, an assassin like no other. She had been tested first on her abilities just as they were, to demonstrate what she was capable of alone. Then, she was set up against each of them seperately, matching her abilites to the others and himself, all except Crawford, who watched and observed the entire time.  
  
Against Nagi, instructed only to use her telekinetic abilities, she was fierce. Even with the playing field evened out to accomidate the young boys one Gift, she had overcome him easily; having him pressed to a wall and the boy's ragged breathing due to the invisible hand at his throat. After Crawford had instructed so, she let the small telekinetic down to the floor gently, running quickly to his side in case he was injured. Such a strange quality in a weapon, to apologise to its victim, even if only in practice.  
  
Next it was Schuldig, and again the girl, Eversor, had been limited to a single Gift, this time it being telepathy. Though hand to hand combat had ensued at first - both showing exceptional speed and endurance - the girl eventually won the war, bending Schuldig's seemingly unbreakable mind to her will. Schuldig always, always had a small pistol hidden somewhere on his person at all times, and in the end, he was on his knees pointing the small weapon to his own head. His eyes being the only indication that he was still there in his mind. So the Lady had control over the Devil. How amusing. But by the way the German swore after she let her hold of him go was something that would make God cringe in disgust. Farfarello had laughed at the thought of God cringing at the German's foul mouth. Quite a hilarious sight, really.  
  
Now it was his turn. Brad was instructing Eversor not to use her psychic Gifts, but her combat knowledge. She was given a weapon; a twelth inch steel blade. He had his favorite needle-sharp dagger. His licked the blade, tasting the cold metal on his tongue. Maybe he would get to taste her on it soon. He looked into her eyes and watched as they turned cold and menacing. It seemed a mirror image of the look he prided himself on. The look that instilled fear in all save a few. Such tactics wouldn't work on him.  
  
"Try not to break any bones, and don't kill eachother." Crawford spoke calmly from his seat at the wall. Nagi and Schuldig sitting on the floor next to his chair, both scowling, their pride having been beaten worse than their bodies.  
  
"Go." Schwarz' leader said. Neither he nor the girl moved. Both standing ready for an attack but neither making the first move. Farfarello lost all patience and ran towards the girl, blade arm held up to attack, a loud roar of a battle cry echoing from his lips. Eversor didn't even flinch at the advancing madman, not until the last possible second. Just when all thought that the Irishman would certainly run her through with the dagger, she ducked out of the way. Luckily for Farfarello, he had been expecting an evassive move as that, and balled his fist and thrust backward, connecting with the back of the girls neck. She fell to the ground, though not knocked out, not even phased it seemed. She countered with a swift practiced swing of her leg and the Irishman was on his back. Quickly Eversor jumped on him, straddling his stomach, holding her blade to his throat. He not being one to give up easily raised his own weapon to stab her arm for a distraction, but no matter how fast he was, she was faster it seemed. Her hand flew out and grabbed it, the two fists struggling against each other for dominance, both seemingly equal. But somehow, she managed to wriggle the sharp dagger out of his grasp and throw it across the floor.   
  
Farfarello glared at her as he bore his teeth. The fact that he had been bested was pain enough for him, the fact that it had been a girl younger than he, didn't even really factor in. It was the fact itself that angered him.   
  
He felt the cold steel of the girls blade press further against his throat; no pain where there should have been, only the feeling that it was there. Then it was gone. She had lifted the blade away from his skin. This angered him even more. She was showing mercy? How sorry she was if she was a trained killer. But no, it wasn't mercy at all.   
  
Farfarello watched in both frustration and mild fascination as the girl brought the blade to her finger and slowly drug it across the pale white skin. He noticed that her face never changed, still cold, but her eyes were holding something new. He looked back to the finger and watched as a thick rivelet of crimson blood emmerged and begin to drip. And then, the most curious and surprising of all, she took the injured finger and brought it to his lips.   
  
What is this?, he thought, looking at her questioningly. And for the first time since they had begun, she smiled and whispered in his mind.  
  
//You wanted to know how I tasted// She said simply.  
  
Despite the obvious curiosity in his mind and most likely in his eye, Farfarello wasn't about to be bested. She was open. Quick as lightening, he forced his torso up off of the ground, grabbed the blade from the girls hand, and reached around with his free hand to pull on her long black hair. With her throat exposed, the large knife pressed to it he whispered.  
  
"I will take it myself; I don't appreciate charity."  
  
An angry, yet amused look flooded the girls features and Farfarello stared at her, grim satisfaction on his own. He heard a grown coming from her throat. He let the slightest smile spread across his lips. Then, he quickly lifted the blade and cut the girls cheek. She didn't wince, nor was she surprised; the anger on her face deepened. His smile grew broader as he jumped to his feet, backing away as he began to lap at the crimson fluid on the blade.   
  
'Mmm, sweet', he thought at the girl, knowing she was listening. This time her growl of displeasure was audible to all in the training room.  
  
Crawford looked as if he was about to say something when all the sudden a slight sound of a rushing breeze could be heard and the girl was gone. She had teleported out of the room. Disappeared all together.  
  
"What the hell was *that* all about, Farf?" Schuldig questioned from the wall as he stood himself up. He still looked peturbed at his little bout with the girl, but unabashed curiousity was not showing clearly on his face, a slight trace of that ever present smirk coming back.  
  
Farfarello just shrugged, staring at the three that were all standing now, looking at him with varying degrees of curiosity or amusement. He had either angered or scared off their charge, and they all wondered, or in Schuldig's case, demanded why and how. He starred at them all in scope with his one eye fixed in indifference. He didn't quite know himself what had just happened, only that he wasn't going to be beatten. He could feel Schuldig press throuhg his mind trying to find the answer; if indeed the madman had some sort of alterior motives. He wasn't about to ward him off, there was no point, but he kept the girl's secret locked away. He fancied that he had hid it in his insanity, somewhere that the redheaded German didn't dare to go for fear of being consumed by it.   
  
He felt the telpath's mind pull away from his own, a bemused and flustered look contorting the mans features. Then Crawford's voice interrupted the silence.  
  
"Schuldig, go find her." he said flatly. "And you best hope that she hasn't gotten out of the house." he added just as dryly, though his tensing jaw gave away his worry that the girl was loose.   
  
I wonder what he would do if he knew she's been outside once already?, the Irishman thought to himself as Schuldig lef the training room on his retrieval errand.  
  
"Nagi, take Farfarello back to his room." Crawford took his glasses off, cleaning them briefly before they were placed back on his face. His room, not his cell in the basement, his room. Interesting to say the least.  
  
"Come on, Farfarello." Nagi said, moving a bit stiffly as he lead him out of the room. Farfarello assumed it was because of his interraction with the Lady in battle. She did seem quite powerful; able to kill any of them if she so chose. Yes, quite a complex creature she was. Able to kill, wanting to kill, but yet there was something that kept her at bay, no matter how fragile that something was. Was is morality? A lingering sense of humanity? And what was it that had turned her from Esset, making her run, making her come to them in particular for help? How strange indeed, but stranger still that they were helping her and that she was not yet dead.   
  
Having been lost in his thoughts, Farfarello was slightly startled when he found Nagi pushing him down onto his bed. He reached for a knife that had already been confiscated by the boy.   
  
"Calm down, Farf." he said levelly, trying to sooth him. "Just relax."  
  
Now he was sitting on his bed, staring at but yet past the slim boy charged to take care of him for the time being. The slight amusement melted from the boys face and he shook his head in - what, pity maybe? How typical. The bleeding heart of the young; though a slight surprise coming from one who has killed on many occassions.   
  
"Get some rest." he said as he left throught the heavy door and locked it. Farfarello could hear every bolt slide into place. But these now everyday sounds didn't register anymore. His full attention was on the girl. His thoughts centered around her. It disgusted him, it intrigued him, it puzzled him most of all. She was such an odd creature. He wanted to kill her for the threat she posed to them all - the same instinct that Crawford had - but at the same time he wanted to know her; to listen and to understand her.  
  
He felt a tightness in his chest the more he thought on the subject. And the more he concentrated on the feeling in his chest, the larger it seemed to grow. What is this? he thought, for the feeling was so alien to him. What could this mean?  
  
***  
  
He had found her in 'her' room, sitting on the small bed therein. Her back was against the wall and one knee pulled up to her chest. She looked pensive, her eyes seeming to look through everything and having a far-off feel to them, and her finely arched eyebrows were knit together. Pensive, deep in thought; those were the words to describe her.  
  
Schuldig closed the door quietly behind him and walked over to the bed, standing right in front of the still as stone figure thereon. He tried to invade the thoughts that, for the moment, had her full attention, but all was for naught. He couldn't, just as she had said he wouldn't. How strong she was. She had overcome Nagi and himself - he cringed at the memory of her mind bending his own. Her mind was immense, infinately stronger than his own, which was a shock in itself. He had been a puppet to her thoughts. Again, his body tensed and shook slightly at the memory of his hand searching for the hidden firearm, then its cold metal barrel being pressed to his temple with his own hand. He had been terrified, doubts running throuhg his mind that she had been sent to kill them, and this was how it was going to end. Then she had released him, and his mouth went on auto-pilot; strings of profanities falling like vomit from his lips, both out of anger and relief.  
  
Now he looked upon the seemingly fragile girl who had caused his body to do such things. How amazing that someone so young could hold such power, and the fact that she wasn't born to these gifts was puzzling in a way. She commanded them like she was an ancient being, having had them from birth. If she had been against them, they wouldn't even stand a chance.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
A whisper he had barely heard with his ears, but it had been echoed in his mind. He looked down at the girl, looking into her eyes that slowing turned upwards to meet his questioning gaze. She continued.  
  
"I'm sorry for what I did - to you, to Nagi - you've both been so nice to me. I didn't want to have to use my powers against you." she was whsipering this, like it was a dirty secret meant to be kept within the shadows. Her eyes seemed to tremble. Now he was beginning to understand how Fafarello kept calling her 'a strange creature' in his thoughts. She indeed was just that.   
  
Schuldig sat down on the bed, scooting backwards to be right next to the girl, who kept staring forward.  
  
"It's alright, Eve." he said, his pride suddenly forgotten, discarded in her pressence. "We only wanted to see how strong you were, and we accomplished that." he smirked at her when she turned her head to face him. The saddness seeming to lift a little.  
  
"He's afraid of me."  
  
"Who?" The girl stared straight into his eyes, then answered.  
  
"Crawford." Schuldig gasped in shock, but all thoughts were halted when Eve continued. "You wouldn't know because he keeps it burried where he thinks no one will see it, but he doesn't realize that I can know everything if I so choose. And he's afraid of me. He's afraid that I will take his life and the lives of those he has come to know as his family - you three." She paused, averting her eyes more. "He cares for you all deeply, no matter how much weakness he sees in it. Quite noble really."  
  
Schuldig just sat there; shellshocked and confused. The words having reached his mind but still not quite understanding. He let his head fall back against the wall, his body taking on the girls posture; carelessly relaxed, seemingly forgotten. Then his mind began to work. He had seen glimpses of the feeling that Eversor was referring to - that Bradley Crawford really cared about the Nagi, Farfarello and himself like family. But hearing this from her - an outsider - was such a shock to the system he could scarce take it in.  
  
Suddenly the girls demenor changed. She jumped up off of the bed and looked Schuldig with a sly grin crossing her lips. Schuldig looked at her confused.  
  
"But it doesn't matter, 'cuz I'm not going to kill any of you. And don't sit there thinking, it'll only make you depressed." At that, she leaned in towards him, grabbed his hands and pulled him to his feet, though he stumbled. She tried to catch him, but at such a precarious angle, she only managed in letting both bodies fall to the carpeting.   
  
The force of both Eve's strength and falling to the ground, Schuldig was knocked out of his confused state. He laughed, the first real laugh he had uttered in a long time, and that Eversor had ever heard. The laughter she had heard days before had been mocking and berrating, but this was true laughter. Before he knew it, bothe he and the girl were rought with silly, nonesensical, yet fulfilling laughter. Slowly, they calmed themselves, their faces and stomachs hurting from the effort, and began to untangle themselves from eachother.  
  
Now, both were sitting on the floor, smiling broadly, small giggles escaping now and then. Then Schuldig's coniving mind thoughts of the days prior events and thought to ask something he couldn't discern from the Irishman.  
  
"What is there between you and Farfie?"  
  
The girls face froze up, if only briefly, but Schuldig had seen it. Interesting. Then she looked him right in the eye to answer.  
  
"Nothing." her voice seeming indifferent, but her eyes relaying another, yet undifinable emotion.  
  
"Ah, then why did you let up on him? You gave him room to attack. You don't seem the type to do such a thing."  
  
Eversor sighed, looking from the floor to Schuldig and back again several times.   
  
"I don't know. I could hear his thoughts, he wanted something, I wanted to give it to him, then -" she stoped . Her words having seemed strange, contemplative maybe. Then she smiled, innocence mixed with pure mischief. It made Schuldig smile.  
  
"He intrigues me." she stated finally.  
  
"Oh Lord," Schuldig groaned, his smile having faded into his trademark smirk. "The two of you deserve eachother."  
  
Eve raised an inquisitive eyebrow, as if to say 'And what is that suppose to mean'. Schuldig just shook his head, the remnants of laughter bubbling up his throat and echoing in his mouth. "Why not ask him -" then, suddenlt stricken with words - seemingly random at the time - that he had stumbled upon in Farfarello's mind, he played with them and added, "- m'Lady."  
  
Eve's eyes narrowed, but her mouth curled lopsidedly, and she mentally nudged him for his cheekiness. Schuldig then gazed upon her from behind his usual demeanor. She was quite the little beauty; her pale skin, her raven black hair, her bright eyes that were such a pale blue that they seemed unnatural. Put together with what he had observed of her actions thus far, he couldn't help but reiterate Farfarello's phrase: such a strange creature. Undeniable beautiful, but strange none the less. 


	9. The German Inquisition

Chapter 9:  
  
It had been hours since the 'training' session that morning, and the household occupied by Schwarz was relatively calm. A false sense of normality had fallen over everything. Nagi had long ago gone to his room to 'rest' he said - though when Eve had mentally checked up on him, he was tapping away at his laptop. Schuldig was sprawled out on the couch in front of the television, lazily watching random shows; and the ever present Crawford was sitting in a chair reading that days paper. Yes, seemingly normal to the unknowing - just three men that lived together enjoying a day of rest. The only thing that ruined that pleasing ruse, was that she knew for a fact what each man was capable of, that they had killed and would kill again, each enjoying it in their own way, but most of all, it was the knowledge of the fourth. The final member of the assassin group - who was currently tightly locked away in his room - was what suddenly caught the girl's attention.  
  
A seemingly random thought, but it had been entering her mind quite frequently since that mornings escapades. He was...strange. She smiled slightly to herself; insanity usually implies strangeness. She then shifted her weight on the couch while lost in her thoughts, stretching her legs out and kicking the Germans' off in the process.  
  
"Hey!" the newly disturbed redhead uttered at he tried to swing his long legs back to their previous resting-place. Eve smiled playfully at the man, who strangely enough, had become something like a best friend to her in the brief time that she had known him. She liked him, he seemed like her also in a way. Well, at least a part of her; she really was too complex to put a single label on.  
  
Schuldig began to lightly kick at her, trying to reclaim his space, she began to giggle softly, which prodded mischievous grins from the redhead. She liked that he was playful, no matter whatever the inspiration for such a mood was, whether it be boredom, spite, or something else entirely. She needed to have at least some positive aspects to her life. After all, she was starting over. No longer was she going to be controlled by megalomaniacs and mad-scientists. She would now use to her fullest ability the one thing that Esset had hated the most about her; her free spirit. She would let it take her wherever it felt to go, and right now, it felt the need to wage a foot war with the couch-hog.  
  
After loud bouts of laughter started to drown out whatever television program was on, Crawford jerkily folded his newspaper, setting it aside, and looked at the both of them, coughing to interrupt their games. The two stopped their antics to look at the dark-haired man, both trying to look as innocent as possible, which is hard when one can barely hold in laughter. Crawford looked about ready to yell long and hard at the alleged 'adults', but instead, his voice was level and moderate in tone, though his eyes were burning with a rising annoyance.  
  
"Would you two please take your childish antics elsewhere and leave me in peace." then, as always when he was frustrated, Brad Crawford took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes with one hand, adding to the look of annoyance that was slowly creeping onto his face.  
  
"OK, Bradley! But only because you asked so nicely." Schuldig smiled at the Schwarz-leader, almost challenging him to say more in retort to the obvious sarcasm, but Crawford did nothing but rest his glasses back on his nose and unfold his paper again, ready to continue reading.  
  
Schuldig, after deciding that Brad wasn't going to rise to his schemes again, nudged Eve and motioned with his head that they should move elsewhere, the smile still plastered on his face.  
  
After stopping off at the kitchen for a snack and some pilfered beers, Schuldig, with the girl close behind, headed towards his room, where Schu collapsed on his bed and Eve getting comfortable in the large window.  
  
"So, what now, Evie?" Schu said before taking a swig of his beer.  
  
"Don't know." Eve answered softly, falling quickly back into her quiet state.  
  
Schuldig leaned against his pillow that was propped up against the wall and sighed, mildly frustrated that the girl had lapsed into another bout of silent behavior. She really was strange. Was she a manic-depressive or something? She had these odd mood swings. After taking a few more swigs from his beer, he decided to voice his silent inquiry.  
  
"Are you a manic-depressive?" he said flatly, stating it as a simple question and noting more.  
  
Eve's gaze turned from the overcast outdoors to the redheaded telepath not too far from where she was resting. She looked deep into his jade eyes, trying to question the motives behind the question by squinting her own blue ones slightly, but settled for auditory words.  
  
"No, why?"  
  
"Well," more beer was quickly consumed. "You keep slipping in and out of these moods that are polar opposites. I mean, just a few minutes ago you were all hyper and fun and now you're silent and, well, broody. What's up?" This was all said with much more emotion infused into the words. Was he really concerned as his voice slightly betrayed, or was it just general curiosity?  
  
"I'm borderline bipolar, something similar to manic-depression I suppose. At least that's what the doctors told me." She didn't want to admit that her thoughts had once again drifted to the white-haired Irishman just down the hall. She had been letting her mind literally wander, and it was to his room that it went. He was just lying on his bed, thinking about hurting God again. Why did she find him so fascinating? What was it that attracted her to him?  
  
She felt a tingling sensation at the back of her mind, telling her that the German was trying to enter her mind to find out what she kept thinking of. She in turn blocked him even further, sending a mental shock his way.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"I told you that sort of thing wasn't very polite, besides, you'll never be able to get in my mind anyway."  
  
"And remind me again, why that is?" he said curtly, rubbing at his temples to relieve the aftereffects of Eversor's attack.  
  
"Because I'm stronger than you." she stated matter-of-factly.  
  
Schuldig glared at her, knowing full well that what the girl had sad was the absolute truth - how else would she have been able to control him earlier that morning - but still not happy with the knowledge that he was inferior to someone. But, he thought, best not piss off those stronger than you. So he plastered on another grin and asked another question, one that just wouldn't go away. But this time he was going to be slightly more tactful about it.  
  
"What do you think of Farf?"  
  
Again, Eve's gaze shifted to the German on the bed. She wasn't in the least bit surprised. She didn't have to be a precog to see that one coming, neither did she have to pick it from the redhead's mind, she just knew it was something he wasn't going to let alone until his curiosity was satisfied. In the end, she decided to be smart with him.  
  
"I'm not informed enough to answer that at the present time." and she returned his smirk, which had slipped only slightly on his own face at the comment. She could see his eyes glint with frustration, then brighten with more curious determination and another question.  
  
"Well, that can't be entirely true. You've had to've at least talked to him, why else would he have this fascination with you? And why does he call you 'Lady Death'?" Schuldig had now leaned forward, trying to emphasize the fact that he 'needed' to be answered. Eve just stared at him, her own smirk slowly fading from her lips. Farfarello was fascinated with her? For some reason, she hadn't even tried to read his mind since the brief encounter after the interrogation. But she quickly set this all aside to save face in front of those inquiring jaden eyes.  
  
"It's a perfect name for a female assassin, don't you agree?" she retorted.  
  
Schuldig seemed a tad flustered then, having had his question sidestepped and avoided once again with quick wit. I wish I could get into that head of yours, he thought while glaring, albeit playfully, at her. She was going to be a tough nut to crack.  
  
***  
  
He had been in his room all day, the only real break from the absolute boredom was when Nagi had come up to him with his lunch. The young boy had stayed, surprisingly enough, and talked awhile with him. Everything seemed to have changed a bit since the girl had come to them over a week ago, now. He came to the conclusion that the young boy wasn't all around bad. He was very intelligent, articulate and had a budding sense of humor - most likely a side-effect of living with Schuldig for so long - it was only when Nagi was condescending towards Farfarello that he disliked the young telekinetic.  
  
But during his noontime visit, the boy hadn't once looked down upon the Irishman. No, instead he spoke to him like he was an old friend, telling him what had been going on; his views on things and such. What most got Farfarello's attention, and coincidentally what got him asking questions, was that Schuldig had found that the neighborhood was littered with dead animals' bodies mangled and bloodied. So she has been out since, he thought quietly as Nagi was explaining the sight, knowing full well that the madman would enjoy the thought of blood and death, though to him personally, it was a bit sick.  
  
He hadn't stayed long, but it had been entertaining none the less. Anything to break the boredom that was as much a cage to him as was the four walls that made up his room.  
  
He looked around his room, at the four padded walls and the small barred window. At least it had a window, his cell in the basement didn't. It gave the dank, dirty room an even stronger feeling of Hell and eternal punishment. Befitting of him really, he thought, but he still didn't like it. Yes, in that small box daring enough to be called a room, he felt his mind slip even further, if that was at all possible. Sometimes he found himself wondering if he had died, he had been left so long to hang there, bound and strung up like beef about to be drawn and quartered.  
  
His lip twitched upwards slightly at the thought of butchering. But obviously, his thoughts weren't of slicing up dead animals. No, they were of real people, of course, screaming, begging and all. The mere thought began to stir his bloodlust.  
  
//Now, now, Farf. Leave those kinds of thoughts for when we can actually use them.//  
  
He heard the bolts slide out of their locked positions and the faint creek of the heavy metal door as it was casually pushed inward to allow the redheaded German passage. A smirk was placed on the thin lips, as always, and the older man held an air about him like he was up to mischief. No good can come of this to be assured, but that was part of the reason Farfarello liked this cocky man. He was very entertaining, even if it did get him -and sometimes others- in trouble. He liked to hurt others, so that made him all right in Farfarello's eye.  
  
"It's nice to know I'm so well thought of." The telepath quipped, closing the door again behind him and walking further into the room. He came closer to Farfarello, looking down on his white-haired teammate lying perfectly straight on his bed, his hand folded casually on his stomach. Farfarello just lay there passively, waiting to see if anything entertaining would come of this particular visit. Schuldig just shook his head, apparently amused at something, and sat down on the corner of the narrow bed.  
  
"So, what have you been up to all day?"  
  
Farfarello just lay flat out on his bed, not even acknowledging the others presence anymore. He didn't see fit to answer the inane question. He thought it pretty obvious what had been up to all that day, especially to a telepath. Absolutely nothing. That's right. Nothing whatsoever. He was bored right out of his tree, and if this idjit was going to do nothing but ask dumb questions, then he didn't want any part of it.  
  
"So I'm an 'idjit' now, am I." Schu said, amused. Farfarello didn't move, didn't even think. Clearing ones mind completely of all thought is something very few people can do, but he had mastered the ability quite effectively. It was a useful trick to have, that, and it pissed Schu off.  
  
Schuldig gave a small noise of obvious displeasure, shaking his head, though Farfarello knew that the small smirk was still set in place. And that's how they sat for what seemed the longest time, at least to Schuldig, Farfarello really couldn't care one way or the other. It was just more time added onto the time already spent in the silent prison called his room. Finally Schuldig stirred, swinging his body around to rest leisurely with his arms resting on the metal foot of Farf's bed, his legs stretched to their full extent, and sat there staring at the Irishman. Farf still didn't move.  
  
"So, Farfie, how are you adjusting to our newest roommate?" Farf once again didn't respond, but he heard Schu roll his eyes.  
  
"I think she's very-" then with a small dramatic pause, he used a word from Farfarello's own mind. "-intriguing. And my God is she stacked! She's got the big-" he stopped when he heard a faint grunt come from the man lying beside him. Oh, was that a warning? The German smiled; now he was getting somewhere.  
  
"Well, you have to admit, she is beautiful."  
  
At that, Farfarello did move a bit, sifting his weight slightly. Then, in a whispered, seemingly philosophical voice, Schu heard this reply.  
  
"Aye, and so are many other deadly things." Schuldig nodded at this comment. It was very insightful, and such statements coming from his mentally imbalanced friend were a joy to hear. It made the white-haired man seem like a philosopher and not a madman. Though really, he thought, where does one draw the line there. He smirked at his inner thoughts.  
  
Farfarello somehow knew that his pushy German companion was going to bring up the subject of the girl. And since it was something other than silence and his own thoughts, he decided it would be somewhat worth his while to sit up and pay attention. So he pulled his deceptively thin form into a sitting position and looked straight into Schuldig's eyes. The German smirked again, and continued with his descriptions of the girl.  
  
"She's an exceptional beauty, she is. Her skin so pale; she's nearly as white as you are, Farf! And her black hair makes her skin glow in contrast. Ah, but it's the eyes; her eyes are what makes her look almost ethereal. Such an unnatural blue, so pale; they look nearly colorless."  
  
Farfarello looked at the man he had known as a trickster and a user, never one to rant about beauty and the impressions thereof, like he was at that moment. That girl was having a strange affect on all of them.  
  
Schuldig, having heard these thoughts, allowed a small chuckle escape his throat and looked at his friend fondly. Yes, Evie was having a strange affect on all of them. He saw that Farfarello was becoming entranced with her mere presence; Nagi was becoming increasingly more compassionate; even Bradley was being a bit more approachable. And he himself, well, he was becoming philosophical. It was all quite amusing to him. The incorrigible and indomitable Schwarz was going soft. Maybe it's an unknown power that she doesn't know she has yet. What is a power like that called again? He let himself and his white-haired friend sit in silence while he thought all of this over a span of a few seconds. Finally coming out of his pensive state, Schuldig plastered his usual smirk on once again and asked the question that mattered most to his obsessive and curious mind.  
  
"OK, Farf. How would you describe her then, other than 'deadly' of course."  
  
Farfarello's one piercing golden eye blinked a few times, staring blankly at the German across the bed from him. He had the instinctual feeling that the redheaded telepath had been intruding on his thoughts again, but even so, he had to wonder why he was asking such a question. Farfarello knew that the man was curious to a fault, but what did this strain of knowledge matter to him. But no matter the almost animalistic instinct to not speak, he began to do just the opposite.  
  
"A fallen angel." He said quietly. He paused then for a moment; not for the dramatic effect it would lend to his words, but because he needed to collect his thoughts. Then he began to speak again. "Gothic and classic in a way." Then, in a rare moment of wit he added. "Nothing like the women you usually go for, Schu."  
  
Schuldig laughed outright when he heard this, not only because it was humorous, but out of pure surprise. He knew full well that he was the butt of this particular joke, but it was the fact that the joke had been made by the criminally insane Irishman, that really had him going. This was a rare occasion indeed. After, Schulidg finally gained control of himself again, he motioned for his companion to continue. He was absolutely sure that there was more to this little train of thought. Farfarello did not disappoint.  
  
"She's elegant in her movements, thought I'm not completely sure whether the motives behind them are unpolluted." Then, in a whisper, almost as an afterthought, he added. "There is a great pain inside of her that just seems to add to her mystery."  
  
Schuldig just sat there for a moment, staring at his white-haired friend in near awe. "I do believe Farf, that you just said more in the last few minutes than you have in the last couple of months." Schu's smile was stretching on to forever and he was looking very pleased with himself. By now, Farfarello had directed his gaze back towards the redhead, a look of annoyance slowly creeping into his one golden eye. Suddenly Schuldig swung around on the bed, his long legs now hanging over the edge. He gave a sidelong glance to Farfarello, his patented smirk waning only slightly.  
  
"Y'know ol' friend, if I didn't know better, I'd think you had some form of empathic ability. How is it that you can decipher human behavior, yet you hate being around them." It wasn't entirely a question, more like a statement, but Farfarello shrugged none the less, as if to answer. "Of course, you don't mind us, now do ya Farfie." The Irishman just sat there, staring at Schuldig, now back to looking absolutely emotionless.  
  
The German just smiled and shook his head, knowing full well the thoughts that were going through his friends head, but decidedly not mentioning anything - for once. Then, quickly becoming bored with the current situation, having gotten what he had come for for the moment, a new, more appealing plan came to his mischievous mind.  
  
"Hey Farf, I was just thinking, I was going to out and have some fun tonight, would you like to join me?" his smile broadened, when he heard the bloodied thoughts running through the deranged mind of his companion. "No Farf, not that kind of fun. I was thinking more along the lines of clubbing. Y'know, normal fun."  
  
Farfarello stared at the hunched over man in front of him. For a moment, he thought of turning down his offer, but thought again of it. For if he accepted, he'd be out of this room.  
  
"Alright." He said.  
  
"Ah, back to the old Farf, ne?" Schuldig chuckled. Finally he stood up, stretching his lanky form, he looked over his shoulder at the thin looking man still laying passively on the bed. "Well, you might want to come down for dinner then, cuz right after we leave." He began walking out of the room, this time leaving the door wide open. Farfarello heard Schuldig laugh as he walked down the hall, and also when he called out in his mental voice to the Irishman alone. //We can even leave Nagi to do the dishes alone.// 


End file.
